


all's well that ends well (to end up with you)

by prongsprobably



Series: i think they know [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hangover, Identity Reveal, Mutual Pining, No Beta, Romance, So fluffy I'm gonna die, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension, We Die Like Men, what happens if two people sit down and talk about their feelings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 12:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20426003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prongsprobably/pseuds/prongsprobably
Summary: And his gaze was open and honest, but his confusion was genuine, like he sincerely didn't understand why Marinette is lesser than Ladybug, like she's ridiculous for even considering it.She never wanted to kiss him more. // sequel tosay it with your handsbut can stand alone





	all's well that ends well (to end up with you)

_ And there's a dazzling haze, _

_ a mysterious way about you, dear _

_ \- Lover // **Taylor Swift** _

* * *

The distant thrumming of a headache pulsed on her temples as she groaned and lifted herself off the bed.

Even the movement required effort, but the sunlight filtering through her windows shined directly on her face, that even if it was a Saturday and she had no pending work (no deadlines to beat, projects to pass, supervisors to curse at in her head), Marinette had to force herself to rise from slumber.

It felt like scorpions crawled and  _ died  _ in her mouth, and it was disgusting. 

"T-tikki?" she rasped, voice hoarse from both the sleepiness and the hangover. Usually, the kwami slept in the drawer on her bedside table, where Marinette made her a small cushioned bed, but that space was unoccupied.

She squinted and glared at the sunlight again (first for ruining her sleep, then for triggering her headache) before grumbling and padding her way towards her bathroom. Marinette brushed her teeth to get rid of the dead scorpions— _ ugh, disgusting _ —meeting her own less than stellar form as she tried to recall the events that transpired last night.

And then proceeded to choke on toothpaste.

_ Oh _ . Oh, dear kwami. Last night she—s-she was taking drink after drink after drink, not minding what Alya was placing in front of her and concentrated and quelling the urge to scream or burst into tears or both. Accidentally finding out the identity of one's dearly cherished partner does that.

Don't get her wrong. It's not that she wasn't happy—she was, incandescently so, and she couldn't remember a time in her life that she was more delighted. This was even better than her best fantasies.

She also kept on trying to find ways on how to tell him, Chat Noir, Adrien, or whatever he calls himself these days, that here  _ she  _ was, his friend, his partner. But fear always crawled up to her throat when she watches him, during lunches where they caught up with Nino and Alya, during unplanned meetings because they were in the same location, or coincidences because they were going to the same place, and to be honest there were a million opportunities she could've told him, but she didn't. 

She couldn't. She'd have made up a thousand and one excuses just to put off telling him a little longer. 

Then last night she,  _ Marinette Dupain-Cheng _ , had been all over Adrien Agreste, not at all bothered by the barrage of weird things coming out of her mouth, tongue completely loosened by alcohol.

_ Wow, Adrien, you smell nice.  _

Marinette spat her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. 

_ Wow, Adrien, you have really green eyes.  _

Turned off the tap and capped the toothbrush. 

_ Wow, Adrien, you're very warm. _

And then the memory of warm smooth suit on her cheek, and then familiar arms cradling her body, and then  _ Thanks, minou _ and the sensation of soft warm lips pressed against her own, barely there but brushing nonetheless.

She kissed him. She actually _kissed _him! And she had to do it drunk, too! 

"Oh, cats," Marinette grumbled. "Oh, cats, cats,  _ cats _ ." 

She vaguely remembered slipping off her dress and throwing herself on the bed and asking Adrien to join her. Her blue eyes slipped on the button-down pajama sleeve she was wearing and groaned further, slapping a palm to her forehead. This was even worse than hangover. "Goddamn  _ cats _ !"

"You called, m'lady?" 

The way Marinette froze was almost comical. She almost didn't want to turn her head and meet the spring green eyes lit in amusement and affection and hundred other feelings she can't put a name to, freezing and melting her simultaneously on the spot where she stood. 

Because there he stood, the object of her everything (affection, confusion, frustration, name it, it's probably that) this early in the morning, leaning on her bathroom's doorway like some catdamned model—which he is—wearing white rolled up sleeves and slacks, barefoot inside her house.

She heard someone let out a mewl, and flushed in mortification when she realized it came from her own mouth. "What—"

"I came early in case you decide to bolt or something, which I wouldn't put past you," the corner of his mouth lifts into a grin that Marinette wants to smack away. He isn't wrong, because it was  _ exactly  _ what she was thinking of, but she wants to smack him anyway.

"Anyway," Adrien cleared his throat, straightening up. The way his eyes trailed down her form made her remember that he was the one who put on her clothes and she wasn't  _ very  _ clothed right now, not as much as she wanted to be anyway. It caused a flush to rise from her neck to her ears. "I'm making you breakfast. Come find me when you're done."

Marinette just blinked at him in response, which he took as an affirmative and retreated away, biting his lip in an effort to seduce her or hold back his laughter, Marinette was none the wiser.

She looked back at the mirror and took in her expression. She was bare-faced with an unhealthy flush spreading on her skin, with an incredibly messy bed hair, wearing nothing but long-sleeved pajamas that covered her until mid-thigh.  _ God.  _

Like he said, he was in the kitchen making her breakfast when she talked herself out of her room and crawling up into a hole and dying. Her hair was put into a bun this time, and she put on lip balm to give her lips some color. Didn't do much to her appearance, but at least she felt more awake than she did a while ago. 

It also helped that she reminded herself that this was Chat Noir, her partner and best friend, who already saw her through her worst. It just so happened that he was also Adrien Agreste, model and also another best friend, who was her—well, if it wouldn't be too presumptuous to say—first love. 

It makes her shiver when she thinks of it. 

Marinette didn't plan on announcing her presence so soon, preoccupied with taking in the sight of Adrien moving around her kitchen with ease, wearing the frilly pink apron her parents got her when she moved out. Unfortunately, the familiar black cat kwami raised its head at the sight of her and had grinned. "Well, if it isn't the Not Girlfriend Just A Very Good Friend."

Adrien had turned around so fast Marinette thought he almost got whiplash, but he seemed fine though embarrassed, hissing at his kwami. "Plagg!" 

Marinette let out a giggle, forcing Adrien to look at her and almost immediately his horrified expression softened. She smiled at Plagg and gently rubbed the spot between his ears, to which he let out a small rumble of pleasure. "Hello, Plagg."

"Good morning, Marinette!" Tikki zoomed up to give a kiss on her cheek before flying back down to her spot next to Plagg, where she left the cookie she was munching on. "How are you feeling?"

"Like there's someone jackhammering my head," she responded. "But fine, I guess."

Adrien cleared his throat, setting down a teacup in front of her. "I made tea. I was told it helps with the hangover."

"Oh does it—" 

"—have honey and sugar spoonful? Yes." 

Marinette sipped and nodded. "Thanks."

"What is this awkward tension in the air," Plagg mused out loud, though by the devious wide grin he had it wasn't very much innocent as his words suggested. "Why, I can almost bite it! So thick! So suffocating! So—" 

"Oh, come on you Stinky Sock," Tikki pulled at him before he could complete his sentence. "They won't be able to finish talking if we're here."

"But! My cheese omelet—" 

"You can finish it later!"

"Aww, you're just saying that because you finished your cookie!" 

And then there's the sound of door slamming.

Marinette flinched, taking another sip at her tea and trying to placate her nerves. Adrien had turned back around to look at whatever he's cooking, which, according to Marinette's senses, were pancakes. 

"I didn't know you could cook," she offered while he was busy, watching his shoulders relax and his back muscles work.

"I learned from Nino," he replied. "I used to crash his place whenever I want to get away from pére—which is like all the time—but since he's also part time DJ he's usually asleep in the mornings so I had to learn for myself. Watched youtube videos and everything."

"Must've been tough," she allowed herself to adopt a teasing tone, making him throw a deadpan look over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, make fun of the rich boy."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Marinette grinned, placing a chin on her hand as she gazed at him. Sitting behind him in lycée had his back imprinted in her mind, and the familiar sight made her feel warm inside. "In fact, I find it plenty impressive. Cooking's tough."

"I heard you've been doing it since you could walk."

"I'm me, you're you," she waved dismissively, though that was an exaggeration. She realized it was easier to talk to him when he has his back turned on her and she kept all the things she said and did last night in a locked closet in the back of her mind.

Only, it didn't last for long, as Adrien had turned and served her the pancake tower, complete with whipped cream and syrup and black and red chocolate toppings. "Ta-dah!" 

"Looks good," she giggled, and then poked at the pancake tower with her fork, only to have Adrien smile at her with a fixed grin. "Um. It's probably in your best interest not to flip it."

"What? Why?" and before he could step her she lifted a side of the pancake up, and saw that it was burned. Not so much that it couldn't be eaten, though, but it was obvious that one side was more cooked than the other.

She couldn't help another set of giggles spilling out of her. Adrien pouted, sighing. "Sorry. I got distracted awhile ago."

"By what?" she continued giggling. 

"You, obviously."

_ Well _ . What could she possibly say to that? Marinette felt her face grow warm and she avoided his gaze, looking out the window and then at the pancakes. "I-I'll. Uh. Eat this now."

Marinette dug in so she'd have the excuse to not look at him. The silence was so  _ so  _ awkward. Why was it so awkward?

When she stole a glance at him, she found him watching her with a steady warm gaze, and though his lips wasn't smiling his eyes were, and suddenly Marinette had a hard time swallowing her food. "W-what?" 

"Nothing," he said softly. "I just can't believe I finally found you." 

Her heartbeat skyrocketed and she shoved another piece to her mouth before she could reply something stupid like  _ I love you _ or something.

Adrien picked up on her silence, and there's a hint of teasing in his voice when he said, "Nothing to say, m'lady? I thought you wanted us to talk and  _ then  _ kiss? How would we get to the kissing part if you're not talking to me?" 

" _ You're _ the one who wanted to talk first before kissing." 

His smile stretched into an impossibly (im _ paw _ ssibly HAH) wide grin. "So you'd rather we kiss first?" 

Marinette sputtered. "W-wh—no! I didn't say that!" 

She glowered when he cackled so hard he was holding onto his stomach and holding on to the bar for support.

" _ Fine,  _ you stupid cat," she hissed, totally red in the face, stabbing at the pancake and pointing at him. "See if I ever talk to you again."

"'m sorry! Sorry," he gasped out, his laughter fading into chuckles. "I'm sorry, princess it's just—the tension—" 

"Yeah, I know," Marinette exhaled and looked up at him again. Adrien seemed calmer now, though he was still smiling. "For the record, I'm glad I found you too, kitty."

Adrien sat on the opposite stool, watching her, always watching. "The Disposer was almost two months ago, though." 

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Why did it take you so long to tell me?" 

There was nothing even remotely angry or irritated in his question, just plain curious. Marinette let out a breath and chewed on her lip. "Well, for one. I was scared."

"Scared? Of what?" 

"Adrien," she met his gaze again, and this time it was Ladybug who wore Marinette's mask, exhibiting the exact same fear and reluctance. "Chat. We've been keeping our identities secret for so long, for so many reasons. And it worked for us for a long time. What if—what if it changes our dynamic? We're  _ superheroes _ , there's a whole city relying on us. I don't… I don't want to jeopardize our friendship and the whole Paris just because I knew who was under the mask."

"Does it?" he asked quietly, eyes focused on her food. "Does it change us?" 

Marinette rubbed her forehead, shaking her forehead. "I don't know." 

"Does knowing  _ I'm  _ Chat Noir change things?" 

She looked at him for a long time, tracing the lines of worry on his face. She suddenly wondered why she hadn't seen it sooner, when she could easily imagine now how the mask would lay snugly on the planes of his face. "Not for the worse."

"I just," she forced herself to speak, to voice out that fear, the one she refused to acknowledge after all these years. "I was afraid you'd think less of Ladybug after knowing she's Marinette."

A crease appeared in his forehead. "Why would I even think that?" 

And his gaze was open and honest, but his confusion was genuine, like he sincerely didn't understand why Marinette is lesser than Ladybug, like she's ridiculous for even considering it. She never wanted to kiss him more. 

"Marinette's not," she paused, waving her hands lamely. "Not exactly superhero material." 

"Hey," he took one of her hand, the way he did last night. "That's not true. I literally called you  _ our everyday ladybug _ years ago, didn't I? Though I should've known that nobody could have been everyday ladybug but Ladybug herself."

A small smile lit up her face and she squeezed his hand. "So you're not… disappointed?" 

"In you? No. In myself? Probably," his melted green gaze bore into hers, tracing her eyes, her nose, her lips, every contour on her face. "I have no idea how I didn't recognize you sooner." 

"Me too," she said, because it was the honesty hour and she could say anything she wanted. "But we don't exactly act the same out of the suits, don't we? If I hadn't seen you detransform I wouldn't have ever reconciled that Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir. Chat's too—" 

"Cool?"

"Obnoxious," she corrected, grinning at how appalled he looked. "Why, my lady! Say it isn't so!" 

She shot him a look that said  _ see _ ?, but he took it in stride and just grinned at her. "I'm really happy it's you, though."

"I'm really happy it's you, too," he smiled, and he has that soft look in his eyes again, and she was fighting to keep her own grin from turning too maniacal because she was so  _ so  _ happy.

"Guess we're done talking," he murmured, leaning closer. Marinette bit the inside of her cheeks, leaning in too, and she thanked the heavens that she thought of brushing her teeth first thing in the morning. "Guess we are." 

"Whatever should we do next." it wasn't a question.

"I know," she grinned. His eyes were fluttering close and a blush had risen to his cheeks, making him all too charming and  _ god _ , how did she ever manage to resist this guy?

_ Well, Marinette, you didn't. You fell so in love him, you couldn't talk to him for almost two years, remember?  _

Just centimeters from his lips, she suddenly drew back, and the sudden space had his eyes flying open, almost cross-eyed looking at the finger she used to push his nose away. "Time to eat my breakfast!" 

"W-wha—b-b—Mari!" 

"Adrien!" she mimicked, giggling, though she was probably just as flushed as he was. "I don't want to waste the first food you cooked for me!" 

He whined, pouting. "But you said—! Last night you— _ my lady _ !"

Adrien looked so appalled and so cute she fell into giggles, that she tiptoed from her seat and leaned across the bar to press her lips against his, but only for a moment, because at the second their lips touched she felt her face heat, so Marinette drew back immediately and sat back, leaving him blinking and gaping at her, red from head to his chest, and she slightly wondered just how far that flush went.

She just kissed him, yes. Sober. And they were both completely aware of it.

Marinette squeaked when Adrien stood, robotically moving her plate away and placing his arms on her either side, locking her in. "Mari." 

"A-adrien," she mumbled, eyes glazing over at the electricity in his.

"What was that?" 

"What was what?" she asked innocently, like her heart wasn't going to jump out of her throat any moment now. 

He leaned, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up. "I'm going to kiss you now."

She couldn't help the smirk on her face when she wrapped her arms around him in return. "Not if I do it first." 

It couldn't be sure who moved in first—as far as both heroes were concerned it wasn't that important, not when they're relishing in each other's unhindered touches, not when they didn't have to keep it quiet now, and they could tell you about how they should have found each other earlier, but if they were being completely honest, their reunion won't feel like it does now if they didn't keep the secret that long. 

This, together, now, felt exactly like things falling into place.

"Stop smiling," she murmured, and Marinette couldn't remember how she ended up sitting on the bar. "I can't kiss you properly, you doofus." 

"But I'm too happy," he murmured right back, smelling like pine and his aftershave, all too welcome to Marinette's senses.

_ Years  _ of pining, and she could finally bask in his warmth and his scent and his presence. She nudged his nose with hers. "I am, too." 

"Aw, aren't you done yet?" a familiar voice whined, forcing them to jump away from each other in surprise. Adrien threw Plagg a look full of scorn. "Just so you know, I'm imagining how I'm going to cut down your camembert supply for the next few weeks." 

Plagg snorted. "Do it and see if I get you to transform into Chat Noir again."

"I'm sorry, Marinette!" Tikki squeaked, glaring at her equal as she followed after him. "I tried stopping him!" 

"It's not your fault that Plagg is a floating stomach, Tikki," Marinette chuckled. "And Plagg, there's a box full of cheese tarts in the cupboard if you want."

"Don't spoil him, Princess, it'll only encourage him to think with his stomach!" 

"That's not  _ spoiling _ , that is how you treat a kwami that grants you magical powers," Plagg huffed, eyeing Marinette, his grin widening. "Make sure to marry this boy, bug. He's ridiculous sometimes but he loves you very much." 

Both superheroes turned a shade of red that rendered them speechless and unable to look at each other in the eye. Plagg cackled triumphantly, flitting away when Tikki zoomed to launch herself at him. " _ YOU LITTLE— _ " 

" _ What? At the pace they're going he's going to propose to her once I'm old, and I'm supposed to be immortal _ !" 

* * *

_My heart has been borrowed, and yours has been blue_  
  
_All's well that ends well to end up with you._  
  


**Author's Note:**

> did u notice that i kept putting off the kissing scene? it's because i don't know how to write one.
> 
> this was fun to write, though. leave some love and comments! xx
> 
> P.S. Stream Lover!!!


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